


The First President of Mars

by fireopal77



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Established Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar, F/M, Humor, Pudding, Romance, Trixie as an Adult, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 15:57:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15710481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireopal77/pseuds/fireopal77
Summary: While she waits to be sworn in as the First President of Mars, Trixie remembers those she loves most.





	The First President of Mars

“Trixie!” She’s never been able to bring herself to answer to any other name, even though, as her devilish stepfather so aptly said at their long ago first meeting, it’s a hooker’s name. Her advisers have always insisted that it’s highly inappropriate for any woman hoping to be taken seriously in politics, but as far as Trixie’s concerned it’s set in stone.

 

“Trixie!” Jane, her personal assistant, tries again, but Trixie’s too busy pacing, wearing holes in the carpet with her patent leather and suede high heels. Every few seconds, her dark eyes dart to the hands of the clock while her nervous fingers fidget fussily with her maroon suit, endlessly adjusting the cuffs and tugging at the peplum hem of the jacket flaring neatly over her hips. She constantly has to reassure herself that her talismans, the brooch on her lapel and the discreet diamond and ruby tennis bracelet on her wrist, are still there; they’re her way of including the two people she loves best in this special day since they’re no longer of this world. Her childhood dream is about to come true, she’s actually going to make history as the first President of Mars. She’s waiting for them to call her for the Swearing-In Ceremony.

 

“Trixie!” the harried assistant says a trifle louder, hoping the third time really is the charm.

 

“Is it time, Jane?” Trixie looks up anxiously, her eyes going first to her assistant’s face and then to the clock again.

 

“Not yet. I come bearing gifts! Special delivery all the way from Florida, from your Dad!” One of Jane’s hands clutches the beribboned strings of twelve garish grinning clown-faced balloons, and she struggles to keep a firm grip on the huge super-size pudding and waffle batter mix gift basket.

 

Trixie thanks her assistant and dismisses her. She prefers to be alone with her thoughts.

 

The botoxed, bronzed, and improbably golden-haired Dan Espinoza, still going strong in his nineties, is far too busy overseeing his Tasty Goo Pudding empire from his terra-cotta-colored mansion in St. Petersburg, Florida to attend the ceremony. Crowds of tourists gather every day to take pictures of the front yard that is featured in _The Guinness Book of World Records_ for having the largest collection of bright pink flamingo lawn ornaments. Sometimes the great man himself, looking like he’s been sewn into his tan Armani suit, sporting his ubiquitous gold slave bracelet and $700 gold sandals, will come out and pose for pictures with them and offer complimentary cups of pudding. It’s a great, not to mention free, way to taste test new flavors like Black-Licorice-Cinnamon-Shortbread-Surprise, Java Jellybean Joy, Green-Apple-Bubblegum-Butterscotch-Blitz, or the perennial favorite of the “I dare you!” crowd—Hot Sauce and Honey Together At Last! rumored among pudding connoisseurs to have been named as a satiric barb aimed at the former Mrs. Espinoza and her whackjob second husband.

 

On a musical giggling clown “Happy Birthday” card, Dan has scrawled his most sincere apologies, explaining that he was booked months in advance to make a series of live appearances on the Home Shopping Network to promote his premium product line Gourmet Goo and he just can’t let them down. But Daddy sends his love, and pudding, always pudding.

 

Lucifer always said that if dessert were served in Hell it would be Tasty Goo Pudding; yes, it really is that awful. Daniel Espinoza will go down in history as the man who invented thief-proof pudding.

 

With a straight pin and deadly precision, Trixie slowly punctures each of the clown balloons one by one.

 

Of course, Trixie loves her father very much, and always will, but it’s no secret that things have been strained between them for years, ever since the whole Tasty Goo Pudding Girl thing during what she always remembers as her unlucky thirteenth year. After Charlotte Richards died, Dan decided life was too short to spend it chained to a job he was no longer passionate about. But change is scary, so he stuck it out for a few more years, hoping somehow things would get better. Then came the day when he crashed his car into a funeral parlor. Dan took it as a sign that it was now or never, so he resigned from the police force and went into the pudding business. He was determined to go toe to toe with Swiss Miss, and to do that he felt his company needed its own iconic advertising figure to compete with that cute little girl with the golden braids. The only problem was Trixie didn’t want to be the Tasty Goo Pudding Girl.

 

It was entirely Trixie’s decision. Chloe and Lucifer supported her. They let her decide, and if any discussion was necessary, or there were concerns or fears that needed to be expressed, that would come after, depending on what she decided. But Dan was convinced that Chloe had poisoned Trixie’s mind against acting, so he enlisted Penelope Decker’s aid to try to sway things in his favor. Trixie felt like she was caught in the middle of a game of tug-o-war, like a rag doll, with everyone taking sides and pulling at her. For awhile, things had gotten really ugly, with Dan threatening to take Chloe to court and sue for full custody and dropping dark hints about Lucifer’s sanity—a man who thinks he’s Satan isn’t suitable stepfather material and maybe children’s services should look into the matter.

 

And Grandma Penny was like the Energizer Bunny, she just wouldn’t quit! She was always showing up with bags full of makeup and costumes and regaling Trixie with stories about all the fun she’d had making movies. Sometimes Grandma would dress up like a prototype of the Tasty Goo Pudding Girl and dance around the living room singing the Tasty Goo Pudding Song; it was AWFUL! One day Lucifer and Chloe walked in on such a scene. Lucifer stood there for a long moment with a horrified look on his face. “This isn’t right,” he said, “I think we’ve just walked through one of the doors of Hell. Come, darling,” he took Chloe’s arm protectively, “come, Child, quickly,” he beckoned Trixie to join them, “into the car! I’m texting Maze to come take care of this!”

 

Trixie felt like her whole world had been turned upside down. Sometimes she even had nightmares about ending up in foster care. So many tears were shed during sleepless nights by both mother and daughter, fearing that their family was about to be torn apart. They would huddle on the couch with Lucifer and cry on his shoulders and he would wrap his wings around them. It just wasn’t fair! Chloe was so happy with Lucifer, she glowed when she was with him, he made her laugh and smile like no one ever had, and Trixie loved Lucifer too, he was fun, they ate chocolate together, he helped her with her homework—thanks to him she got straight A’s in Spanish—and he gave her driving lessons. And now her Dad was trying to spoil it all because of his stupid pudding! She was even willing to give in and be the Tasty Goo Pudding Girl if he would leave her mom and Lucifer alone and just let them be a happy family again. 

 

 But Dan overplayed his cards; Lucifer was not a mentally unstable man who thought he was the Devil, he really was the Devil. And anyone with a lick of sense knows you don’t fuck with the Devil’s family; Satan protects his own.

 

Shortly after that Dan and Lucifer had a little chat, just the two of them alone, man-to-Devil. Lucifer would only say it was “most illuminating.” But Dan was never quite the same after that. The ghost of fear haunted his eyes, and sometimes he would call in the middle of the night blubbering about his soul. Finally, to everyone’s immense relief, he made the decision to move to Florida. Trixie went to visit him for a week twice a year, but he never said another word about her becoming the Tasty Goo Pudding Girl.

 

In fact, there would never be a Tasty Goo Pudding Girl. Instead, there would be a Tasty Goo Pudding Lad, a.k.a. Charlotte Richard’s ex-husband dressed up in red and yellow lederhosen and a Tyrolean hat with an absurdly long feather. In a series of increasingly bizarre commercials, he would prance around Alpine scenery like the Pied Piper, singing the Tasty Goo Pudding Song, sometimes with fat blonde Bavarian children and mountain goats skipping along behind him. Sometimes, just to mix things up, he would serenade strange fluffy puppets with their plastic wiggle eyes glued on crooked that were apparently made out of yarn by artistically challenged kindergartners. Lonesome for his lost love, and seeking to hold onto some small shred of her, Dan had gone to visit Charlotte’s ex-husband bearing waffles as a peace offering. The rest, as they say, is history.

 

Many years later, when a double hip transplant curtailed his prancing, Mr. Richards was replaced by the Tasty Goo Pudding Nun, a very poised and elegant Julie Andrews type who could sing pudding jingles to mountain goats and yarn puppets with complete dignity.

 

There’s another knock and Jane comes in again. “More gifts!” Carefully clutching a white cardboard box and a big plastic-wrapped bouquet, Jane deposits her burden on her boss’s cherry-wood desk. “Devil’s food cake and red roses,” she announces.

 

Trixie’s love of chocolate is legendary, and her assistant fully expects a delighted smile to light up her face, instead there’s an expression Jane can’t quite define, sort of a wistful sadness mingling with the eternal flame of hope.

 

“Who sent them? Is there a card? Who brought them?”

 

“A lovely gentleman of color, muscular and bald,” Jane sighs dreamily. “I offered him coffee, but he couldn’t stay.”

 

“Amenadiel,” Trixie smiles softly.

 

“Pardon?” Jane frowns.

 

“Nothing; that’ll be all, Jane. Thank you. Call me when it’s time. Until then, please see that I’m not disturbed.”

 

“Okay,” Jane nods, a puzzled frown furrowing her brow as she shuts the door, leaving Trixie alone with her roses, chocolate cake, and memories.

 

She opens the box and smiles back at the playful, grinning red devil emoji on top of the cake. She doesn’t need a card to tell her who it’s from. The roses either. Red roses were her mother’s favorite flower, which always seemed out of character considering Chloe’s preference for plain, simple things. Very few people knew that red was actually her favorite color. But Lucifer knew, hence the star ruby in her engagement ring, the simple but chic ruby and diamond tennis bracelet she wore every day, the drawer full of tasteful but elegant silk and satin lingerie, and bouquets of red roses for every special occasion and often for no reason at all. And, of course, there were red roses when she married him.

 

They’d married suddenly, spontaneously, in Las Vegas, at three o’clock in the morning, before a Justice of the Peace with an Elvis impersonator and a cleaning lady as witnesses. They didn’t tell anyone and didn’t make any plans. Lucifer already had his tux, and Chloe rushed into an all-night boutique and bought a short white dress overlaid with black lace with beautiful bell sleeves that she had admired in the front window. She wore her favorite over-the-knee black boots and a corsage of red roses with it. There were no bachelor or bachelorette parties, bridal showers, wedding gifts registry, or endless debates and decisions to make about guest lists, groomsmen, bridesmaids, venues, food, flowers, music, clothing, and cake. They both agreed they wanted a marriage, not a wedding. Certain people were of course disappointed and went around sulking and nursing hurt feelings, they said it was the height of selfishness, but they just had to get over it, or not, Lucifer and Chloe certainly never lost any sleep over it.

 

No one expected their relationship, let alone their marriage, to last, but whenever he overheard such remarks Lucifer would always reply, with a smile and a twinkle in his eyes, “care to wager?” Everyone expected him to get bored and go back to his glamour girls and party every night playboy lifestyle, but he never did. Though he continued to operate Lux, putting in regular appearances, always the fun and gracious host, working the room and playing his piano, he always declined the invitations jiggly-breasted beauties in skin-tight mini-skirts routinely whispered in his ear. He just wasn’t interested, he had found something better.

 

People were always fascinated by Lucifer, and drawn to be near him like moths around a flame, but the Devil was a man of fidelity and honor, and the most loving and devoted of husbands and stepfathers. He prided himself on taking the words of his marriage vows entirely seriously, “every word true,” except for the part about being parted by death. He told Chloe “if I can’t be with you, I will stand outside the gates of the Silver City for eternity just so I can look at you and make love to you with my eyes.”

 

He stayed with Chloe for the rest of her life, and when she died the Devil was never seen in Los Angeles again, it was as though he had never even been.  There were no goodbyes, but he left Trixie with a jaw-droppingly generous trust fund that ensured she need never work for a living unless she so desired. Eventually the story of Lucifer Morningstar, the Devil who took a vacation to LA and decided to stay and open a nightclub, became something akin to an urban legend. It even inspired a popular and much beloved TV show adored by legions known as Lucifans, many of whom bonded and formed friendships, and loved and supported each other like family, or Lucifamily.

 

So many people believe that passion dwindles in a marriage, that familiarity breeds boredom, and sometimes even contempt, and couples invariably start to take each other for granted, but with Lucifer and Chloe it was completely the opposite. Time only made the fire of their passion burn brighter, every year they seemed to fall even deeper in love. Though she was always the serious, responsible one, with Lucifer, Chloe learned to relax, to just let go and embrace and enjoy life, to be a sensual woman, at ease with her desires and comfortable in her own skin, as well as a wife, mother, and  detective. She discovered that she really could have it all. Lucifer was always Lucifer, the impulsive, fun, irrepressible man-child who was also an archangel and the Devil incarnate, but he found depth and meaning, peace and contentment, and more love and acceptance than he had ever dreamed possible in the life he shared with Chloe. They balanced each other perfectly; they were like two inseparable sides of the same coin, they just couldn’t be apart.

 

In the quiet hours after midnight, if she awoke needing the bathroom or a drink of water, or to sneak a slice of chocolate cake, Trixie would always peek into their bedroom.  It made her feel so happy, like all was right with the world and nothing could ever go wrong, to see her mother sleeping with her head on Lucifer’s shoulder, enfolded by those beautiful white wings. Trixie always thought a picture of them sleeping like that should be right next to the entry for “bliss” in the dictionary. They both looked so happy, content, and peaceful. On the very rare nights they spent apart, they both slept badly, if they slept at all. Lucifer always said he couldn’t fall asleep without Chloe’s head on his shoulder. He needed to hold her, wrap her in his wings, and know she was safe before he could close his eyes.

 

Whenever Lucifer was home, music filled the air, either from his piano or the sound system. Chloe would curl up on the couch and do paperwork or read, and when she was done, or needed a break, she would join him on the bench and sip from his glass. Some nights they spent dancing at Lux, alone on the dance floor under the twinkling lights, after everyone else had gone home. Other nights they spent on the beach or in the desert gazing up at the stars that Lucifer had hung in the sky eons ago. Sometimes—Chloe once confided when Trixie was all grown up and had lovers of her own—they flew, and they made love, naked in the sky, with her arms and legs twined tight around him, and his arms holding her, heart against heart. But he would never take her too high and risk her succumbing to altitude sickness. When they landed, he would always lay her gently on the sand, and make love to her again…and again.

 

They always laughed, bantered, and played, and gave each other the best night of their life.  Even when they fought, fighting was a form of foreplay; they never went to bed angry, that was their rule, the bed was for love (and sleep too of course).

 

Trixie has so many beautiful memories, like a string of priceless pearls, they are her greatest treasure.

 

There’s a knock on the door, jerking Trixie’s mind back to the present.

 

“It’s time now, Trix—Madame President,” Jane curtsies in mock formality.

 

“I’ll be right there,” Trixie smiles. She trails her finger along the perimeter of the cake and savors the devilishly decadent chocolate frosting, letting it melt slowly on her tongue, as she breaks one of the roses from its long stem and sticks it behind the diamond angel wing brooch on her lapel.

 

“The First President of Mars!” she smiles as she regards herself in the mirror and gives a last touch to her dark hair, done up in an elegant French twist secured with a glittering star—another treasure from her mother’s jewelry box.

 

The moment her hand touches the doorknob her phone trills with a message from a hidden number. She knows who it’s from—another precious gift from Amenadiel, the divine messenger. It’s a photo of a large, spacious open room very like the penthouse at Lux, with subdued lighting, stained glass panels, sleek leather couches and chairs, and carved stone walls like something that once stood in some ancient city. There’s a glossy black piano, and behind it, glimpsed through an open doorway, an immense, regal black bed. A dark-haired man and a golden blonde woman sit side by side on the piano bench, eternally young and beautiful, leaning into one another, anyone could tell just by looking at them that they are very much in love. “Soulmates” is the word that always springs to Trixie’s mind.

 

The last time she’d seen Amenadiel, many years ago, when the loss was still so very fresh that Trixie wasn’t sure she would survive the grief, he told her that Chloe had dug her heels in and refused to pass through the gates of the Silver City. She had chosen an eternity in Hell with Lucifer rather than an instant in Heaven without him. “Heaven would be Hell for me without you, so I might as well go to Hell so I can be with you; you will make it Heaven for me just by being there with me.” Amenadiel himself had acted as intermediary between the Devil’s Dad and his equally stubborn and determined wife. It had not been fun. But Chloe got what she wanted, plus a piano for Lucifer’s palace. But both had to agree to give up something in return—Earth was off limits, they could never go back again. However, Chloe was allowed, twice a year, to spend one day in the Silver City if she wished, so someday Trixie would see her mother again. And she would see Lucifer too, because he always spent those days waiting anxiously, but patiently, outside the gates to reclaim his bride. It was a bargain they were all pleased to make.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
